


3s&7s

by bangintulip



Series: The mob au verse [1]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Not Related, Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Humiliation, M/M, Not Beta Read, Possessive Rick Sanchez, Rick Speaking Spanish, couldn't decide if morty was underage in this or not soooo just to be safe i tagged it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:00:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22239004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bangintulip/pseuds/bangintulip
Summary: Through the long list of aliens, humans and whatever he’s had suck his cock there was something Morty had that they all didn’t. A naïve eagerness that drove Rick wild. It’s been years, decades even since someone has made him lose any sense of control but goddamnit if this simple minded twink with an ass he could bounce a quarter off of doesn’t just do it for him every time.---Or a mob boss!Rick getting his dick sucked by his errand boy Morty.
Relationships: Rick Sanchez/Morty Smith
Series: The mob au verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1816816
Comments: 9
Kudos: 176





	3s&7s

**Author's Note:**

> first time writing for this fandom so go easy on me, cant stop thinking about rick being a mob boss so take this. It aint beta'd so sorry bout the grammar mistakes

When it came to most sex, Rick was a very patient man. Being seventy plus meant that he didn’t feel the urge to get his nut and leave, he relished in taking his time to break someone down, if he even saw them as worth his time. Most people weren’t, but there was no need to find any deeper meaning when he’s just there to feel good. Rick was also a very busy man, keeping cartels (intergalactic or otherwise) , the DEA, CIA and every other government acronym that needed leverage in check and under his thumb. He had no time to think about his next fling, courting or otherwise—and although he likes taking his time the sex was strictly to keep himself focused. Humans eventually need outside stimulation that’s not work related, and Rick can’t completely turn his brain off but he can keep the thoughts from racing as much.

This is why he genuinely enjoys sex with Morty. Rick, like he does with all things, kept tabs on Mortys several stages of “giving in”; because there was a difference between Morty just enjoying sex and Morty losing his last thread of decency. Like thread Rick slowly works the boy with his fingers and unravel a little stubbornly at first, then fray away as predicted. All of it is easy, because Morty himself is easy, but that doesn’t change how fucking _satisfying_ it is.

The first step is always catching him off guard which again, easy, although it’s not as if Rick is leaving himself open to interpretation, ever. He’s careful about every brow raise or twitch of emotion, how his hands move of his posture showing interest or disinterest. These are carefully cultivated actions he’s developed being in his business and well, buy just merit of being _Rick_. He knows what the fuck he’s doing. It’s almost cruel to prey on the boy this way if he didn’t look so damn adorable when he was out of sorts and huffy. Morty being his ‘errand boy’ meant he had daily things to report, things Rick is most likely already aware of but he trains the boy anyway to keep him in a routine. He knows what Morty needs.

Morty is rambling on about the CIA and some shipment he’s got some guy already on, and Rick just keeps his eyes trained on the paper work in front of him while his left arm circles around the now stammering Morty. This continues for a minute, Rick slowly circling his thumb on Mortys lower back until he says something about him not being able to focus while Rick is doing what he’s doing and of course, the mafia don responds with a hum in lieu of a reply. Morty knows to continue reading, even when Rick has two of his slender fingers knuckles deep rubbing that little spot that makes Morty sing his praises Rick still tells him to focus reading the report. He can bullshit some philosophical reason, about the balance between where Rick control begins and Mortys ends. About how he’s keeping his mind trained to always focus on him no matter the circumstance. He could, but that would be, again, fucking _bullshit_. He does it because it entertains him. Morty trying to read the names of drugs with the longest technical names of life that he’s already too dumb to pronounce is funny on its own, but him trying while holding back an orgasm is downright comedy to Rick. Morty gets frustrated more often than not, saying Rick is just fucking with him and he agrees. The boy is too stupid to realize he’s always being fucked with even when he’s not getting fucked.

The second step is Mortys second orgasm and generally where he stops because Rick himself is sated. The greedy boy could never just come once, even during quickies he could milk the brunet back to back being as trigger happy as he was. This is usually when Morty had trouble saying ‘sir’ and switched between that in his name while he moaned. Rick liked fucking the kid from any angle really, he was so damn tiny it was easy to contort him any way he wanted. Morty would insist they should get to work when they switch positions, and Rick has to laugh. “You little—you wait until a dick is out of you for a second, n-now—you want to make demands eh?” Rick shoves his cock back in without a warning with the boy on his stomach. “R-Rick!” he calls out, gripping the sides of his desk with now scattered papers. “That’s right, _cariño_.” Rick purrs mockingly and drives forward faster, wanting to roll his eyes back himself from the tight grip the boys hole had on his cock. So fucking good. His ass was made for the mafia don, his entire _being_ was made for Rick. This is when Rick starts to lose himself temporarily, they’re just moving and _feeling_ and it’s animalistic and Rick isn’t thinking coherently. Eventually he makes himself garner control again.

The third step is making Morty come more than twice, and at this stage he’s pretty sure he can get Morty to do whatever the fuck he wanted. The boy starts to lose his mental faculties and just begins chasing orgasm after orgasm like chasing some dragon. Rick’s tested how far he could take it, first it started with just spitting his mouth or face, then choking—child’s play really. Then during one interrogation (something he’d set up specifically to see how far he could push) he watched as the boy drooled, the whites of his eyes only visible and the biggest smile plastered on his face from coming his forth? Fifth time? Rick lost count considering he’d stop fucking the kid a long time ago and just decided on a toy until he got bored. Usually Rick is one to direct the blows in these situations, but Morty got off on this reluctantly. So he asked what he wanted to see.

“W-What nex—“ Rick snaps his fingers in front of the boy’s face “Focus.”

“S-Slit h-h-his throat—while I c-come!” The words came out nervous but certain, ashamed yet yearning. It made Rick’s eyebrow raise, Morty fucking hates interrogations let alone telling him to kill someone. So orgasm number five huh? Rick complied and watched as fluids left both males.

There was one thing though, that Rick had no patience with. Where he let himself act like the impatient, lust driven, selfish bastard he was and that was blow jobs. Fuck a good blow job was hard to come by, and getting head from aliens made his standards pretty damn high. However, even with Mortys lack of experience just watching his cock disappear down the brunets throat for him to gag and choke was so fucking worth how sloppy he was.

Through the long list of aliens, humans and whatever he’s had suck his cock there was something Morty had that they all didn’t. A naïve eagerness that drove Rick wild. It’s been years, decades even since someone has made him lose any sense of control but goddamnit if this simple minded twink with an ass he could bounce a quarter off of doesn’t just do it for him every time.

It’s usually pretty random, sometimes in the back of whatever car he’s been driven in, others right at a meeting he’s carrying with other clients just to show how high the stakes are for him. After he’d blow load, open up Mortys mouth and say “Show these gentlemen how _good_ you did.” Every word spoken is dripping condescension and snark, he’s making eye contact towards his clients. Some look unfazed by his antics, others look disturbed but Morty holds out his tongue all the same showing the copious amount of spunk that pooled on it as his eyes watered. Morty should be used to being degraded like this but he always looks mortified and Rick eats that shit up faster than the brunet can swallow his jizz.

This time they’re at the desk again, the little shit was getting worked up from simply having the belt securing his slacks caressed gently. Rick let a single finger trace over the buckle as Morty talked, keeping his brow flat and eyes low—an indication that not only was he not listening but he didn’t care. Morty, like the brat he was, pouted about it then “S-Sir, this is—you need to be paying attention you know?”

Rick grunts, “Who said I wasn’t?” He continues playing with Mortys belt, his eyes having yet to make contact.

“B-Because you—n-nevermind—“ he continues, and Rick can’t help the smirk that passes his features.

They both know what he’s doing, but Rick continues to tease until he’s figured the boy has had enough; the tell usually a sharp inhale from Morty when Rick glides a flat palm over his lower hips then squeezes. All of this build up was really so Rick didn’t feel as if the boy won when Rick inevitably lost it and started fucking his throat like his head was decapitated. He knew part of the reason why Morty was so enthused about giving head, because he finally got to watch Rick squirm for once by his hands. He doesn’t like to dwell on that little voice that tells him the kid has the power to be just as fucked up as him.

Maybe Rick is in denial himself.

He doesn’t like to think about it

Not when Mortys hand twitches and begins to move south, the errand boy was terrible at acting casual—the glint in his eye alone gave it away. Rick knew the boy was awkward, timid at times and generally clueless, but something itched at the back of the don’s mind whispering that Morty somehow orchestrated his responses. Not that it would surprise him at all, he’s observed him during high stress situations and he could turn on the nervous victim narrative in an instant. In particularly rough jams Morty tears up, stutters and lies his little heart out about he has no choice but to serve Rick and if whoever had them in a bind could just find it in their heart to let him go he’ll never, _ever_ cross them again. Rick can always feel a growl building in his throat as he watches usually from afar, that little body contorting in a slumped fashion, a carefully crafted innocence that makes Rick want to pluck pieces of him away until he’s met with real tears.

He knows it’s because of the mission, but like reforming nerves it itches underneath his skin and no amount of scratching relieves it. This doesn’t stop Rick from doing so however, tearing the metaphorical skin to see exactly who Morty is even if Rick is one to talk himself. The difference is whether on the surface or underlying, what you see with Rick is what you get; Morty, on the other hand has been full of surprises.

If Rick were a romantic he’d say they were made for each other.

Years of interrogations, torture, and nail biting intensity still don’t prepare Rick for the first initial hesitant grab the boy gives towards his crotch. He’s trying to act shy again, but Rick doesn’t let him, simply leaning back and raising part of his brow expectantly. _Your move, you little shit_ Rick thinks, one arm resting behind his head and another on the armrest, fingers tapping into the leather impatiently. Large brown eyes briefly meet his own through a sheet of lashes, then they’re staring down at his groin as he slowly, finally gets on his knees.

Rick wasn’t one to let things be though, “The fuck are you _doing_? You—I’m getting sick of you just doing what you want when you want to. What-What makes you e-even think you deserve to place your useless mouth around my perfect cock, _boy_?” In reality Morty was doing everything expected of him, but the way he freezes up and stammers is, well, fuck it’s the highlight of his day.

Morty’s hand immediately pulls away like Rick’s crotch is fire, but he’s still leaned in as if awaiting direction. “S-Sorry…I just thought—“

“You don’t think, that’s your problem Morty.” Rick now has Mortys chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting it so they were face to face.

Morty took his worrying bottom lip between his teeth, his eyes leaving Ricks but then wandering back “B-but Rick…you’re _hard_.” Before Rick had the wherewithal to look down because perhaps the tension has been building in this room for so long he didn’t even realize what was happening down south, he gasped—that _fucker_.

Rick let out a low growl while hands smaller than his groped on his length covered by slacks that costs way more than he’d actually pay for, he had to admit that they felt good against his dick (Rick wasn’t wearing boxers today). He’d have to thank those Italian bastards some other time when some twink wasn’t about to drool all over his balls. Mortys eyes leave him once more, now focusing on his erection that he keeps fucking rubbing like an inexperienced teenager about to hit third base. Something about it gets Rick riled up, makes him lift his hips and chase after the barely there sensation that causes tingles to lick up his spine.

He’s glaring daggers at the boy, but his hips keep undulating impatiently—Morty knows what he’s fucking doing and its driving Rick crazy.

“If you’re going to be worthless and undisciplined, at least get to it.”

“Y-Yes, yes sir.” The look he gets in response almost has Rick seeing red, its brief but it’s teasing, bordering on snide as if he has Rick where he wants him. Those mischievous brown eyes twinkle, his lips slightly upturned into a grin and the rougher grip he gets to his length. All of it confirms what Rick theorized earlier, what Rick is in denial about. He’s going to tear that boy’s throat to shreds.

In mere seconds those same eager fingers are digging into his slacks and pulling out his weighty cock, Rick keeps his eyes trained on every inch of him. He wonders if Morty consciously knows he’s licking his lips right now, all while taking his sizable length with both hands and stroking in a steady rhythm. He looked fucking starving and Rick’s dick was a five star meal. Still, he was not moving fast enough. Rick grabbed the hair on the nape of Mortys neck and pulls, just in the right spot to make the boys eyes water.

“Morty, if you make me repeat myself one more time, I’m going to rip all your teeth out with pliers and make you blow me that way. Y-You know—that’s—now that I think about it it’s probably a great idea right? You fucking suck at sucking dick.”

Instead of a stuttering apology he finally feels those sweet plump lips take him down, apparently the threat was nothing but motivation for the brunet because he caught a glimpse of Mortys arm moving in between his legs.

Rick lifts him up by his hair, then a quick but potent back hand across his youthful cheek followed by spitting directly into his face. “Wow, Morty, you-you’re just not following directions today hm? Did I say you could touch yourself?”

Morty shakes his head no, his eyes twisted shut and obviously flinching away from whatever Rick has planned next.

“Use. Your. Words.”

“N-No s-sir, I-I’m so-sorry.”

“Filthy cum dumpster you are this is—you’re loving this shit.” Morty is still cowering in fear but his eyes are now open, watching as Rick strokes himself lazily “I-Is that little cock of yours getting hard? Could you even call it a cock Morty? It’s so fucking tiny. Look—Look Morty, this is what an actual dick looks like.”

Morty is gaping at him now, part of Ricks spit is sliding down his red cheek and he’s rubbing his thighs together. That sick motherfucker really does love this, and shit so does Rick. He keeps his large pale palm gliding over his hard on, inviting the brunet over to try again for the last time until punishment is seriously doled out. Although he’s not sure if it’s punishment when Morty eventually gets to come. Maybe that’ll be the punishment next time.

Soon his errand boy is back on it, sucking from the head first then mid-shaft, and fuck he’s no expert but Rick had to lay his head back and let out a heavy sigh. Goddamn that felt good. He was only half way down and Rick could tell it was already a bit much for him, but this was his favorite part. He grips brown curls and shoves him down entirely, his throat encasing Rick’s cock like a glove and he can just feel as Mortys throat works to adjust and reject the dick lodged down it. Ricks toes curl, he releases a full body tremble, _holy fucking shit this feels fantastic_. He could hear gagging and choking but all Rick could focus on was the drool starting to pool at the base of his cock and drip down his balls, and the slick tight heat around his cock. It was one of those times where his native tongue took over because his brain couldn’t _fucking_ \--

“B-Buen chico, se t-tiene—“ that idiot couldn’t speak Spanish “—gotta breathe through your nose Morty.” He managed between ragged breaths, he’d left Morty with his nose snug against the base and Rick couldn’t help but reach for his throat and stroke. Fuck he’d never get used to this, being able to see himself visibly protruding from that slender neck of his. Then, then that motherfucker swallowed and _holy shit, holy fuck—_

“Fuuuuck!” The words dragged out and rough as Morty began to suck, to his surprise managing to repeat the action of sucking from base to tip.

He was close already, how the fuck was he close already? Was Morty practicing in his spare time? If he had the conscious effort he’d laugh at his own observation, Morty couldn’t get away with sucking any other cock but his. He uses this throat on an almost daily bases, how could he not fucking notice how good he’s gotten. Again, he’s no expert but this was just unexpected.

The room was filled with sounds of slurping and other wet noises, Rick only got to peek every once in a while at diligent boy who he was sure had a sore jaw by now. He was holding back his orgasm, which was cruel but hell he couldn’t help it. He had to make this last.

“N-Never forget Morty--“ Rick was rambling, eyes closed and body slouched although his calves were tensing from being the edge “—never forget who you—who you belong to. Who you fucking serve—“ Morty kept a steady rhythm of sucking then he was back down to the base, this time managing to flatten his tongue and lick his balls. “E-Eres mia p-para--“ the brunet was licking and licking, then that devil tongue prodding up the base and swirling and— “—p-para s-siempre.”

He got a muffled moan in response, and that was enough to send Rick over the edge. He’s heaving, his crisp white button down clinging to his sweat soaked skin, his muscles tightening so hard he was afraid he’d get a charley horse and his balls emptying to the point where he fleetingly contemplated if he’d ever be able to come again. The relief in his balls felt better than any hard core romp session he’s ever had with every hook up or hooker. His vision was blurry, almost floaty like he was seeing tracers on a good hallucinogen. He caught part of his own voice, urging Morty and holding his head down “Ahh fuck take it! Take all of it, swallow all of me you fucking bitch!” 

Rick opened his eyes to meet smug but watery eyes, and a face covered in drool that was also reddened, probably from not being able to breathe so infrequently. Morty was so obviously hard in his slacks, and well shit the boy did such a good job he couldn’t help but show his appreciation even if he looked way too cocky at the moment.

Rick lazily slid a foot onto Mortys crotch and just pressed, nodding when Morty gave him a questioning look of ‘are you sure?’ The boy bucked and bucked, keeping his hands to his side obediently and moaning with his now ruined throat. Rick barely registered it all through his post orgasmic haze but whatever he was doing had Morty coming in seconds flat.

They both stayed silent for a minute, panting lightly and enjoying the high before the whirlwind of the day began. It was moments like these, moments where Morty gently places his head on his upper thigh and sighs contently and Rick places his skillful fingers through those soft curls that everything is good. There is no cartels, there is no CIA or DEA, there’s no mob it’s just orgasms them and it’s _good_.

Rick quickly snaps back to reality, he doesn’t let himself swim around in those feelings for too long because of the risk of drowning. Morty seems to get the picture once his hands are gone and lifts himself from Ricks leg, he wipes the drool from the side of his face. They both redress in silence, Morty comes up to adjust his tie and Rick lets him.

“I never- I didn’t get to finish reading your schedule.”

“Unless it’s urgent I couldn’t give a shit right now, you just sucked my brain through my ballsack.”

Morty is clearly amused from hearing that but keeps his smile small “It’s a meeting with your Miami suppliers, s-seems important to me.”

Rick sighed, can’t get a fucking day off to save his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you think :)


End file.
